


A Sudden Chill

by Lolymoon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, F/F, Sea Devil - Freeform, Sympathy for the de vil, me struggling with Cruella feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolymoon/pseuds/Lolymoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It wasn't a matter of figuring out what was wrong with her, but what was right for her."</p><p>Some insight (sort of) on Cruella, because she is such a fascinating character and I couldn't get my mind out of her story since I've watched that last episode. Mentions of Sea Devil. Hints of mental illness. Some dark stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sudden Chill

She is young when she understands that she is not like the others, young enough to not remember her age. Young enough for it to not be a sudden epiphany, but more like a gradual process of thoughts sinking into darkness.

She doesn't like to play with dolls.  
But she likes to shave their heads and sever those naked little bulbs off the plump wax bodies.  
She doesn't like to play with girls.  
But she likes to push them in the dirt and make them cry for their mama.  
She doesn't like to play with boys.  
But she likes to slap them square in the face and watch their smug eyes fill with fat tears.

She doesn't like to smile and she doesn't like to draw, she doesn't like puppies and she doesn't like to run, she doesn't like to touch people and she doesn't like her parents' love.

 

She doesn't like.

 

The world to her is always stale and bland.

She's all wrong.

She's broken somewhere, unfit.

She doesn't find the missing piece.

 

One day, she meets a little sparrow squirming under the crushing hand of Death, its little body sizzling in pitiful jolts of a vanishing life. She stares and stares and it's beautiful and it takes her breath away and _it makes sense_ , and she puts her foot over the little body, and _crushes it_ , and it's perfect, from its last shrill scream to its last jump reverberating in her toes. There's a strange, warm, tingling feeling in her chest, it's almost painful, she has never felt it, but the word comes to her lips without hesitation.

 

Joy.

 

The world is right for the first time in her life.

She understands.

 

It wasn't a matter of figuring out what was wrong with her, but what was right for her.

 

.

 

Mother's dogs are coming for her and she doesn't understand, she doesn't _understand_ , what she did wrong, why is she a bad girl, she loved her father, oh she loved her father very very much but she loved him so much better _dead_ , loved him so much when she slipped the poison between his lips, she felt so much for him then as he was lying cold and blue on the floor, such lovely blue, such bitter cold, she was only trying to feel it, trying to feel _right_ –

The dogs are coming for her and they're barking and barking and barking and it pounds in her head, there's someone in there slowly hammering a huge nail through her brain and there's a flash of black and white running with her in the woods and it's not the dogs and it's herself and it's not herself and she wants to be alone.

She just want to be alone.

 

But the girl by her side keeps running.

 

.

 

She stares at her through the mirror.

 

She is locked-up too, confined, concealed, dirty, dirty little secret, she is kept from all the bright things, from the joy of the kill and the glorious noise of a gurgling breath and the dancing of the poisoned limbs and the blanking of the revolving eyes.

It's not fair.

Why can't she be happy?

She whispers to the girl on the mirror, the girl with white and black hair.

_Why can't we be happy?_

She forgets how to say I in her head for years.

And when the black and white girl from the mirror is finally released, the blonde one takes her place, and she is never alone and never one.

 

.

 

She doesn't know about love.

 

She thought she did.

She thought death was love.

She came so hard everytime she took a life.

And then her pleasure was ripped from her.

Cruelly.

And she had never thought to seek it elsewhere.

But when she meets the Sea Witch, she is so struck by her lively beauty that she doesn't feel the usual ache to skin her lovely black flesh off her bones.

On the contrary, she is taken by an insane desire to taste it and scar it with kisses full of teeth.

She has never been one to deny her own pleasure.

As she takes over and over again this woman with a name that rolls on her tongue like a wave and stings like salt, she starts to think one can find completeness in those moments where Life swells and explodes.

For a while, it feels even better than killing.

 

For a while, she thinks.

 

Ursula is her missing piece.

 

.

 

“If you want, I could kill for you.”

 

The rasp confession is whispered in the depth of her skin, and she freezes her hands around Ursula's throat, withholding both pleasure and pain in her shock.

But Ursula is smiling like she smiles at the ocean and her secret is no longer a burden if it is shared.

Her hands are no longer worthless if they can hold on to the most beautiful weapon in the world.

Ursula laps her cheeks, brittle like wet sand, she has always been the warm tide to unmade and remodel, and she echoes her thoughts in a moan,

 

“I'll be your weapon and you'll be my song.”

 

When they fuck each other that night it tastes like making instead of destroying.

 

.

 

A new world comes between them and the glass is fractured again. Thoughts, long kept at bay, are rushing in, pouring through, drowning her mind, replacing the comforting sea that resided there.

The girl in the mirror winks.

She leaves one night without a warning, without a kiss, without a word of love, she leaves in the dark and deserts her lover, her island, and gets lost into the depths.

She never finds her way back again.

 

.

 

Ursula is gone.

 

She had thought she had found her anchor again.

Got her direction back.

But it turns out it was no more than a siren's chant luring her towards the shards of glass of her broken mirror.

She's bleeding inside, she who gorges herself on foreign bloods, she is bleeding and she's lost, spiralling out of control, veering out of course, and the dogs bark louder than ever, hot on her trail.

 

She doesn't know anymore if she aches for a happy ending or an end.

 

.

She falls from the cliff, and she feels it.

 

The Author was wrong.

 

_She could still kill._

_There is still someone she can kill._

 

Before she hits the ground, it blooms in her. That fleeting sense of self. That elusive fulfillment she had been desperatly seeking into the blood of others.

She has one last perishing thought, of a word she didn't know she could own.

 

_Me._

 

She dies with a bead of blood on the corner of her smiling lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Any thoughts?


End file.
